


The Anatomy of the Loveless

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, No Slash, Romance, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-13
Updated: 2005-05-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:46:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian doesn't know what's going on. For once.





	The Anatomy of the Loveless

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian never means to start looking at Justin like a partner, or even something vaguely resembling his future. One morning he wakes up and he does. He turns to his side and stares at Justin like some kind of fucking lesbian. Or what he imagines a lesbian stares like. 

He promptly gets pissed and shoulders Justin awake, and the little bastard just blinks, rolls over and mumbles something about a midlife crisis and goes back to sleep.   
\---

Brian gets disturbed a couple weeks later when the phrase “what would Justin do?” enters his head at the grocery store. It disturbs him even more when figures out that the voice of his conscience is Justin’s voice. Justin’s nagging voice in the back of his head warning him off courses of action and telling him at fucking three am to go home. 

\---

He watches Justin suspiciously over the next few days. He doesn’t appear to notice the blatant staring, or possibly just doesn’t care. Knowing Justin it’s the latter. And knowing himself, either one pisses him off equally. 

He bitches Justin out till he leaves in a huff to Daphne’s. Brian watches the dramatic twirl of Justin’s pea coat and the easy slam of the loft door and Justin’s voice enters his mind and chides him for being a “prickly old bastard.” 

He arrives at Daphne’s, ready to- not apologize- but something damn fucking close to it. 

\---

He watches the subtle curves of Justin’s hips as he moves happily to the beat with Emmett in tow. 

He doesn’t even know why Justin turns him on, but he does, and the little bastard knows it too. He’s been thinking, a little too much according to several people. But he just can’t figure it out, the near constant lusting and drooling when he’s around Justin. Grabbing his arm and pulling him to the nearest bathroom or shoving him down on the nearest soft object, or bending him over an improperly padded object. 

It’s really fucking disturbing, because Brian is in control. Except when he’s not and more and more that has to do with Justin. Just like every fucking thing in his life. And for some reason, it doesn’t bother him as much as it used to. 

\---

Justin’s been holing himself up in Daphne’s apartment. He doesn’t know why this is going on, except it possibly might have something to do with that time of the month, but whatever it is it’s grating on Brian’s already fragile nerves. 

He corners him in the diner on Tuesday. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He spares a brief glance to the old bear that Justin is serving and dismisses him, “come over tonight and stop being such a pussy.” 

Justin dismisses him with walking away, which Brian really fucking hates, and Justin knows he really fucking hates it. Brian grabs for his arm and pulls him back into his personal space. 

“That time of the month again Sunshine?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” Justin yanks his arm out his grasp and storms into the back. Brian, because apparently he’s lost all self control, follows him. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

“It means that you’ve been riding my ass, and not in the extremely pleasant way, for the past few weeks and I’m the one on the rag?” 

Brian blinks, once. He clearly hasn’t been as careful and introspective as he thinks. He’s at a loss for words. How does he explain that he’s just now figuring out all the stuff Justin’s done to his brain? 

So he settles for a staple. “Fuck you.” 

\---

He holes himself up in the loft all Wednesday and refuses to answer the phone and drinks out of a bottle of vodka. Times like these and he wishes desperately he had a job. 

\---

It bothers him in ways he doesn’t even know how to describe, and the shitty thing about it is, he’s not even bothered that fuck it all, he has a mother fucking boyfriend. But how much said boyfriend is affecting his daily life.

It’s not even that he can’t go five hours without touching some part of Justin, but that he hears his voice in his head, that he wants to be as mature and stable as Justin when he grows up, that he’s even sitting down and contemplating what that all means, because Brian mother fucking Kinney doesn’t fucking contemplate. He acts, all action no talking, like the great American hero, John fucking Wayne or Don Corleone. 

\---

He arrives at Daphne’s on Friday after a binge of Vodka, cigarettes and pot, with a bottle of whiskey and a trampled red rose. 

He holds both of them out when Justin opens the door and Brian gives him what he hopes is a devastatingly handsome sneer. 

Justin sighs and takes the whiskey, throws the trampled rose back into the hallway and pulls Brian into the apartment by the front of his shirt. 

Nothing is solved, but the situation has been remedied temporarily. And Brian will think on it later.


End file.
